Why Celibacy Memes Are the Cultural Detox of 2025
Tuesday, July 8, 2025.
A Brief (and Chaste) Love Letter to Those Not Doing It
Let’s begin with a cultural confession.
Not having sex has never been so attractive.
Not in the “I’m saving myself for marriage” way, and not in the “My ex took my house, my dog, and my libido” way.
No, celibacy in 2025 has become something richer, weirder, and way more memeable.
In an era where desire is marketed, gamified, and served with a side of cortisol, the sexiest thing you can do is absolutely nothing. On purpose.
Celibacy is trending, but not because it’s puritanical. It’s trending because people are tired.
Tired of being touchable on demand.
Tired of being horny on Main.
Tired of pretending that liking someone’s thirst trap counts as “flirting.”
So they’ve logged off—and they’ve brought memes.
When Your Libido Moves to a Remote Cabin in Vermont
For some, celibacy, in its current form, doesn’t look like repression. It looks like recovery.
On TikTok, videos under the #celibacy hashtag have exploded past 195 million views, and you’ll find everything from solemn testimonials to tongue-in-cheek confessionals:
“Day 76 of celibacy. I can smell colors and feel my third eye opening. Also, I cry during dog food commercials now.”
—@monkmodegirl
And that’s the thing. People aren’t just abstaining—they’re transforming.
Or at least making transformation content. It’s a dopamine fast for the soul, a refusal to keep participating in a game where your worth is measured by response time and matched energy.
It’s not a lack of sex—for some, it’s the presence of peace.
The Venn Diagram of Burnout, Disillusionment, and Celibate Vibes
The real engine behind the celibacy meme renaissance?
Disillusionment. Or what I’m calling Erotic Depletion Syndrome. (Note: no one is actually calling it that yet, so WTF?)
After years of swiping, situationships, and vulnerability hangovers, people are realizing that sex—while often fun—is not a guaranteed route to connection. Or intimacy. Or even serotonin.
Sometimes it’s just a deeply confusing tangle of limbs, late texts, and cold pizza.
And when that’s the case, why not just be alone?
On purpose. With snacks. And a sense of sovereign dignity that comes from not having to decode a 1:17 a.m. “you up?” text.
What the Research (and the Body) Have to Say
As I mentioned earlier, of course, your body has opinions about all of this.
At first, according to sex researcher Anita Fletcher, extended abstinence can feel like withdrawal.
Oxytocin and dopamine, the neurochemicals associated with love, bonding, and post-coital bliss, start to recede. You may feel emotionally muted, like someone turned the volume down on your desire to... exist.
But the plot thickens.
Over time, Fletcher explains, your system adjusts. Testosterone levels can rise again. Some report enhanced focus, more energy, and even a kind of spiritual clarity (Fletcher, 2025). Kinda like a juice cleanse, only for your attachment style.
Sleep might be rough for a bit—especially if sex used to be your melatonin substitute—but your immune system doesn’t suffer too much (Charnetski et al., 2004).
You might catch a cold or two, but you’ll also catch glimpses of who you are when you're not performing desire for someone else's validation.
Think of it as emotional composting. Things get weird, then they get fertile.
The TradWife, the Monk, and the ADHD Twitch Streamer Walk Into a Meme
As I mentioned in my previous post, celibacy culture is diverse. It has factions. Denominations. Fluorescent aesthetic palettes.
There’s the TradWife Revivalists—posting slow-motion videos of modest dresses drying on a clothesline while Gregorian chant plays softly in the background.
These creators aren’t just abstaining. They’re revering.
Celibacy is framed as sacred preparation. An offering. A betrothal to the divine—or at least to a future husband who doesn’t have a Reddit addiction.
Then there’s MonkMode Masculinity, often found on YouTube or in TikTok’s algorithmic dungeons.
Here, celibacy is transmutation. Energy not wasted on lust becomes energy for stock portfolios, cold plunges, and bench presses. Semen becomes the fountain of youth. Or a pre-workout.
And then there’s the Neurodivergent Soft-Refusal Squad.
These are the folks saying, “I’m not celibate by religion or rage. I’m just really overstimulated and the idea of small talk followed by sex makes me want to crawl into a weighted blanket burrito and disappear.”
No matter the aesthetic, the message is clear: celibacy has range.
Long before TikTok spiritualized it, or Reddit weaponized it, my mentor Michelle Weiner-Davis saw celibacy for what it often is in couples therapy: a form of emotional freeze.
She didn’t moralize dry spells. She studied them. Taught through them.
And most importantly, she encouraged people not to wait passively for desire to spontaneously reappear like a hormonal groundhog.
“You don’t wait to feel intimacy,” she would say. “You build it.”
That idea—action over inertia—was radical when she said it. And it still is.
Because many people entering celibacy right now aren’t looking to re-enter. They’re not treating it as a layover. It’s a destination.
But eventually, some of them may want back in. Into touch. Into trust. Into shared vulnerability without the migraines of modern dating.
And when that happens, they’ll need something more than memes. They’ll need tools. Safety. Language.
They’ll need what Weiner-Davis championed: intentional reconnection. I look forward to discussing this with her on my upcoming podcast.
Final Thoughts from the Land of the Abstaining
Celibacy is no longer just about sex. It’s about attention. About who gets to access your body, your bandwidth, your biofeedback loops.
It’s a meme, yes. But it’s also a mood. A collective exhale. A recognition that perhaps desire shouldn’t be an obligation. That maybe it’s okay to step away. To rest. To want nothing.
For now.
Because want—true want—doesn’t come from swipes or scrolling or thirst. It comes from stillness. From memory. From choice.
And that, gentle reader, is the great irony: sometimes the most erotic thing you can do is nothing at all.
“Are You Emotionally Numb… or Just Celibate?” A Wry, Insightful Quiz for the Romantically Paused. Drop me a line, and I’ll send it along.
Be Well, Stay Kind, and Godspeed.
REFERENCES:
Charnetski, C. J., Brennan, F. X., & Brandon, J. (2004). Sexual frequency and salivary immunoglobulin A (IgA). Psychological Reports, 94(3 Pt 1), 839–844. https://doi.org/10.2466/pr0.94.3.839-844
Chou, K. L., Ng, I. S. F., & Yu, K. M. (2014). Lifetime abstention of sexual intercourse and health in middle-aged and older adults: Results from Wave 2 of the National Epidemiologic Survey on Alcohol and Related Conditions. Archives of Sexual Behavior, 43(5), 891–900. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10508-013-0176-z
Exton, M. S., Krüger, T. H. C., Bursch, N., Haake, P., Knapp, W., Schedlowski, M., & Hartmann, U. (2001). Endocrine response to masturbation-induced orgasm in healthy men following a three-week sexual abstinence. World Journal of Urology, 19(5), 377–382. https://doi.org/10.1007/s003450100222
Fletcher, A. (2025, June). Celibacy creates 'cascade of changes' that can benefit mind, body. Toronto Sun. https://torontosun.com
Lastella, M., O’Mullan, C., Paterson, J. L., & Reynolds, A. C. (2019). Sex and sleep: Perceptions of sex as a sleep-promoting behavior in the general adult population. Frontiers in Public Health, 7, 33. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpubh.2019.00033